One Last Dream
by RainbowOfNight
Summary: Uraiah is living with her adoptive family in the same city where she lost her first family to mysterious circumstances, in the house right next door. One night she finds them gone too, and a strange red-eyed butler and his young master waiting for her, the butler claiming her for his own.
1. Chapter 1

**Notes: This will not be a romantically themed story. Cute moments? Yes, in the next few chapters, I can promise you that. This is not the first story I've ever written, so I hope I've corrected majority of errors.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Black butler.**

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Ch 1

A little girl shivered in the sharp cold wind that pelted her skin, big white snowflakes ending their great fall from the heavens by catching in her hair, decorating her thick blond curls like jewels. Her nose was tinted red and numb as she sniffed and sneezed into her mittens, made of old wool and worn with gaping holes and rips. Her coat was in a similar state: two buttons were missing, fallen out of their stitches long ago, the pattern a faded from a brown plaid to an almost creamy colour. The open ends of the coat fluttered like banners in the rushing wind.

As she walked down the wide and snow-covered street with all it cracked cobblestones, the cold nipped at her ears and the girl gazed at the familiar spectacle of the nighttime city with listless eyes the colour of storm clouds. The small shops that lined the sidewalk were dark, their doors shut tightly for the night. Some of their windows sported cracks, lines in a crude spiderweb pattern over the glass. Crumpled balls of paper and empty cans and loose cardboard littered the street, and the girl wound her way carefully through them. She hated it here' yet she loved the familiarity of the place, the confidence that she knew this place almost as well as she knew herself.

This place was the dreary and poverty ridden section of the city, and no one needed to tell this child that. She knew it as she scampered quickly past the shadowed alleyways, and kept to herself always, never stopping to speak to the occasional night wanderer. Here was a place one had to often look over their shoulder on a simple morning stroll and to never leave their doors and windows unlocked. A prison to those unfortunate enough to reside in it. One wrong move, and you could end up dead in the gutter like your neighbor, or that nice fellow who gave you directions just the other day to the market.

The night was quiet but for the occasional shouts of men, drunk at the tavern and itching for a brawl, or the occasional rumble of a distant carriage. Not a kind place for a little girl to be, all alone in the heart of the night. She hadn't meant to be so late in getting back from her walk. Randa and Oscar would surely scold her profusely when she got home. Randa in particular had always been so against her explorations.

The girl bit her lip and forced herself not to look back as she passes the body and turned the last corner that would lead to home, and her eventual punishment. She didn't want to spend the next few days confined to her room. Boredom worked wondrous pain on her mind, and Randa knew it.

"Home" was a cramped house tucked in between two others, both according to city records deserted, but in which resided two other families, one with a seven year old child and the other with a ten year old. None of the children around were quite as young as this little girl, only five. She heard the adults curious and worried whispers as she passed by, about how such a tiny thing was wandering the streets alone, and then the sighs, and she saw the pitiful looks that followed. She did this often.

After her parents had disappeared one day and had not come back, she had been left alone in their home with the broken windows and rotting wooden floor. It had been a day since she had seen them last, and she was so hungry, her stomach ached, and there wasn't a morsel of food left. Her parents had left to go get more, but it didn't take an entire day to walk to the market, she was positive of that. It only took her a half hour at most walking hand in hand with mother when they went together. So she went out to look for them herself. Sometimes she wished she hadn't.

She had searched the alleys, the dim lit shops with their sparse wares, and eventually the market itself, questioning the merchants, but none of them had seen any traces of her parents. She never found them, even after searching until the orange and purple sunset coloured the sky. But she did find something strange. One of the men who were like to sit on street corners was smoking a cigarette, the smoke curling in thick tendrils around his bearded face. The child stopped and stared, her heart catching in her throat. The man crushed the cigarette beneath the heel of his boot and smiled warmly at her, the gap where his front tooth used to be gaping at her.

She didn't return the smile; she was too busy observing his coat. It was worn and threadbare, mere strings holding the brown cuffs of the sleeves together. It didn't look like it provided much warmth in the cold weather of late. However its unfortunate state of disarray was not what caught the girls interest. It was the coats familiarity, the smooth dark fabric she knew she had run her hands over day after day, the dusty scent that it emitted like a sort of pungent perfume. She gasped suddenly and tensed, her feet braced to flee to the emptying street behind her. A few stray yellow curls were freed from her wool hat, and they caught in her fingers as she put a hand to her face, as if she could shield herself from the horror that accosted her, its cruel vibrations touching her very soul, making it shrink with fear and disbelief.

She had seen this garment before, and the very sight of it made her eyes water, as the snowflakes of winter melted on its surface.

"Something the matter, kid?" the man asked, with a slight undertone of warning, an invisible threat that she understood perfectly well. Yet still his face was inviting, with that's mile still plastered upon it like a mask.

"No, sir," the little girl answered, and how she wanted to leap at him and scratch at his face with her nails, to knock him about as a strong adult male might. But she did not have the strength.

She forced her feet to move, step by painful step, and turned her face away, so he would not see her cry. Don't give him the satisfaction. Or perhaps it would bring him grief, to know the thing he had so utterly destroyed in a single moment. She didn't think so. He would go on, and she would have to as well, even if all she wanted right now was to join the rotting corpses that occupied the sewers, to lie in the foul water and stop her heart by mere will alone.

"Daddy?" she asked, as she gazed at the crowd of hurrying pedestrians, eager for the warmth and safety of their homes. It was getting late; the vivid colours of the sunset were fading to a mixture of the deepest purple and black. None of the men who strode along the sidewalks or were in conversation with others were her father, and yet something made her keep scanning every passing face, a hope that was dying like an ember in the cold snow.

She tried to push those thoughts away, like the undesirable things they were to her. She opened the front door and slipped inside, bolting it securely. She sighed.

Randa was not lying in wait in the living room as she thought she would be. The ripped leather chair was empty, and the side tables were free of any tell-tale coffee mugs or dishes. The bedroom? The girl crept down the hallway as quietly as she could, noticing the closed door of Randa and Oscar's bedroom. they could have gone to sleep without her, and simply assumed she was already in bed. They didn't always check.

Randa and Oscar had taken her in the very night after she had returned home after seeing the beggar man wearing her fathers coat. They had been her parents neighbors, and they had found her with her knees drawn up to her chest in the armchair, weeping and breathing in long, drawn out gasps. There son Daniel had been with them, staring curiously behind his mother as he watched her take the strange little girl in her arms, and announce determinedly to her husband Oscar that they had a new addition to the family. They never asked her what happened, what it was that had made her cry that night. They probably already knew.

She liked Randa, but sometimes the woman could become very distant and detached, and sometimes she would stare at her pensively for minutes on end as she played with her toys or with Daniel, for reasons she never spoke aloud. Only one time had she almost made her thoughts clear to her adopted daughter.

Oscar had been playing with the little girl, tossing her up in the air ad catching her. She was giggling with delight, and Randa had been watching, her hand tangled in her red hair. "Oscar, you that she..." Then she had taken on that look of detachment and pursed her lips, silencing herself as quickly as she had begun to speak.

"Uraiah," The child had whispered when Randa gently asked her for her name that first night. She had been close friends with her mother, so she already that information, but she had asked anyway, just for introductory purposes.

Now Uraiah passed their door, and saw that Daniel's too was also closed, which didn't really surprise her, seeing as the older boy had never been a night owl as long as she had known him. She was about to retreat to her bedroom, to bear any possible punishment the next morning, when she turned the corner and saw the yellow glow of soft light from the kitchen, and froze in her tracks. Her eyes widened. She tiptoed forward and peeked in cautiously as the sounds of banging pots and pans echoed through the house.

She was met with an unexpected sight. a small figure was bent over the wood stove, cursing as it tried to light it without success. Uraiah took a step forward into the light, and the figure paused, either hearing her or sensing her, and turned its head sharply.

A boy with some of the blackest hair she had ever seen, like the black of a ravens wing, longish with strands shielding one of his big blue eyes. oddly enough, he wore an eye patch over one eye. and he stroked it nervously, a personal gesture she felt she wasn't meant to see.

Uraiah fidgeted awkwardly on the balls of her feet, aware of the rock that had become stuck in her boot and was currently digging into the sole of her left foot. "Hello..."

Who was this? One of Daniels friends? It wasn't likely. Daniel had always been a sort of solitary boy, mostly preferring toys and drawing to playmates. In fact, the only playmate Uraiah had eve seen him with was herself.

"Sebastian!" The boy suddenly shouted, and she backed up a step in surprise. His brow was furrowed in distress, and his voice had a distinct cultured, persuasive tone to it.

She looked to the corner where he was now glaring. There was the kitchen table in all its scratched and wobbly glory, and sitting in a chair with his legs folded across one another was one of the most frightening and alluring men she had ever seen. He had black hair, almost the same startling shade as the boys, and his eyes half-lidded in a relaxed satisfaction. He was not at all disturbed by Uraiah's presence. She could have sworn his eyes were a dark red. His black suit and boots were a part of him, a piece of the picture he and of shadows and silk. He was elegant sitting causually in their kitchen chair, and he gave a carless smirk towards the boy.

"Master'" he started, his voice that of a native Englishman. "With all due respect I believe I made you aware of the residents of this household."

The boy composed himself with obvious effort and slowly rose to his feet. His garments were entirely out of place in this part of the city, very fashionable and screaming of wealth, as with the man sitting at the table. The boy wore a loose shirt of gauzy material, with wide poet sleeves that ended cinched at his wrists, and black riding breeches with buckled boots shining with shoe polish. His whole attire was spotless, as if he'd never walked through the filthy streets outside, or in the rain when mud was plentiful on the cobblestones.

Uraiah's own dress was was spotted with mud, and the lace embroidered at the hem was ripped and smudged. She blushed with embarrassment and a faint squeak came from her lips, words she hadn't planned that refused to come.

"Sebastian, why?' The boy demanded, striding over to him and standing his arms folded against his chest. "You said you would get what you needed and then we would leave. it's been an hour. What are we waiting here for?'

The man called Sebastian stood and towered over the boy, who couldn't have been more than thirteen years old, but the boy was not deterred. He clearly expected to be obeyed. He remained in place, waiting for an answer. The one visible sapphire blue eye burned intensely.

Sebastian gave a small laugh. "We shall be on our way momentarily, worry not Ciel. I have a small matter to attend to first, is all."

His eyes...! Uraiah saw that they were indeed red, and not the red of an albino. They were not he sweet and fiery red of a rose, either, but the red that spread through her veins and seeped out of her finger when she pricked it on a thorn.

And they were looking straight at her, scanning her from her light hair to her mud-stained boots, and he nodded, as if something crucial had just been decided.

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**Edited slightly.**

**Woah, that took a while to type. my first black butler story. I very rarely use OC's, but I'm giving it a try here with Uraiah. Sebastion and Ciel will appear much more after this chapter. Oh, and Grell, because I just love Grell. Hehehe.**

**Reviews are always awesome.**

**Me: *visits Undertaker***

**Undertaker: May I fit you... for a coffin?**

**Me: Sure. *smiles enthusiastically and climbs into nearest coffin* I'm 5'7.**

**Undertaker: O.O**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry this took so long. I was watching Loveless and Sekaii Ichii Hatsukoi and got carried away. I'm back with a new chapter though. This takes off right where the first chapter left off, just saying.**

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"Ciel, would you mind waiting in the other room while we... converse?" Sebastian said, never taking his eyes off Uraiah. His height was intimidating, but she stood her ground, looking into his eyes with quiet defiance.

Ciel opened his mouth to say something, but changed his mind and he nodded politely, walking into the living room as asked.

Sebastian and Uraiah were left alone in the dimly lit kitchen, the glare of the full moon visible in the corner of the window. Sebastian reached out for her, pulling her into a light embrace, taking her arms and wrapping them around his waist. She swallowed her fear like a bitter tonic, her arms shaking as she pulled them away and leaned against the wall, feeling the rough faded brick under her fingers. She felt as if she were teetering on a ledge; one wrong move and she would go tumbling down and hit her head.

"I won't harm you, dear girl," Sebastian said, and he bent down on one knee and offered his hand. He bowed his head, black strands of hair falling into his eyes.

Uraiah didn't move. "I don't go to strangers. Now what are you doing in my house?" Her blue eyes blazed.

He chuckled, and stood up again, tugging at the white rose pinned to his suit jacket, fresh and untarnished by the wind and occasional dust clouds outside. "Very clever. They've taught you very well. It does not do for children to wander over to any mysterious gentleman that offers his company, especially young ladies."

He grabbed her dress, pulling her up by the back and up to his eye level, and frightened blue marbles met entrancing crimson.

He ran his fingers through her curls, twining them round his thumb carelessly. "Purity and darkness meeting in a chaste kiss, and so soon, in such a young and fragile body."

Uraiah gulped, and when he held her against his chest like a child would hold their favorite doll, protectively and possessively, she let out a sudden sob. She was too scared to scream, not wanting to shatter any peace and clarity that remained with the sound, and did not have the will not to stop the tears.

"Sleep now." The whisper came like a refreshing breeze in her ear. She welcomed it, and though she knew it was impossible, she was already closing her eyes, or someone else was, because she wasn't doing it of her own will. "Sleep..."

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She woke with a feel of neutrality, of removal from all things, like she could leap off a cliff hundreds of feet in the air and survive, just by walking on the water on below. There was no sensation. It didn't amaze or astonish her; it was just what was.

She was lying on her back, and looking up at an endless expanse of white, no clouds or sky. Almost a ceiling of sorts, but she couldn't even tell how high it was. Everything around her was white, and there was no way to discern one thing from another. She sat up, and the lack of effort startled her, the first emotion she'd felt in this place. It was as if she weighed nothing, was made of air and mist. She saw the bare pale form of her leg, and realized she was naked, her torso bear of her dress and petticoat, her stockings and shoes nowhere in sight.

She felt so exposed, even though there was no one around, at least, not that she could see. She had _felt _a presence, she felt it like you feel that monster in your closet, that ghost breathing down your neck. It had eyes, and a mind, and it was here for her, she sensed.

A cool breeze wafted through the void suddenly, throwing wisps of her hair up and making her shiver as it hit her chest, her bare arms and legs. It came from nowhere and everywhere, and she turned confused in a side circle. It was almost annoying, the way it eluded her.

"Mou petite?" The voice echoed, and a ring of pleasure was heard behind it.

Uraiah stopped, and she found herself facing a dark figure standing a few feet away, one that certainly not been there before. It was silent as a shadow, and it's limbs were flowing as fluidly as candle flames as it seemed to glide on air to reach her.

"Sebastian," she acknowledged uneasily, walking backwards as subtly as possible. The butler was still in his uniform, but his white gloves had been removed, and what she saw on his right hand made her cover her mouth to keep from screaming.

His nails were black, the black of a bats wings as it fluttered past your face in the darknesss, that didn't appear to be paint or polish, but the nails actual colour. Strange, but not enough to cause her panic. What was enough was the marking on the back of his hand, a tattoo of sorts imbedded in the thin veined skin in dark ink. It was a star, surrounded by a wide circle with little lines extending from it, small but obvious, and it was glowing. A pale blue illuminarion emanated out from its perimeter, the marks own personal aura.

He lowered his eyes respectfully, and he held out the hand with the star and offered it to her. She stared at it, and the glow became brighter, but not from him. A new source of light poured blue into the whiteness. Uraiah tapped her chest, not darign to look down, but she felt heat that did not belong there, and saw the glow stifled as she placed her hand over it.

Sebastian was the picture of serentity as he pressed that glowing hand to her chest, right over her breastbone, and the twin lights flashed once, like a sputtering lantern, and then burned blindingly.

She covered her eyes, and when the blue flame died, there was sunlight, warm and pleasent on her naked body, and wide acres of fresh dewy grass that her bare feet crushed as she stood on it, and neat rows of wild white roses and lillies fencing her in on every side. Small marble fountains were placed at intervals throughout the garden, and a cobblestone walkway led up to the biggest house she had ever seen. It was like a palace, so inviting and with a sloping black roof and wide oak dorrs with golden knobs. She gaped at it, and birds chirped and insects buzzed about around her. It was a mansion, able to house possibly a hundred people, with shuttered windows on all three levels, open to the summer air on the third. She had no words for any of this and watched it with alarm building slowly inside her.

The image flickered suddenly, like a picture on a projector, on and off, and she was suddenly standing in a room with extremely high ceilings, and she was covered in a satin green dress with a ruffled skirt. She looked down at herself in these unfamiliar clothes and slammed her fist against the wall with anger. The bang echoed.

"What is going on!?" She yelled.

She saw a bed large enough for three people and went to it and sat down. She sighed and pinched the soft pink duvet in between her fingers. Mounds of pillows covered the bed, a combination of pink and mint green, and dolls rested against them, eyes blank and uncomprehending. There were many dolls, with glass eyes and fabric ones, with real hair and hair of yarn, of stuffing and porcelain. The room was many a little girls dream.

And it was gone just as quickly as the first paradise, this time in a flash of blue light.

"Sleep." Again the soothing timbre of his voice, the way it wrapped around her like a warm blanket. Sleep, indeed. It was a cordial invitation without the wax seal and cover of a envelope. She took it.

She woke to the sound of boots on hardwood, the hurried steps of someone impatiently pacing across the floor. She forced open her eyes, and it took all of her will not to just tumble back down into sleep.

A man with long red hair hanging down to his waist was walking back and forth in front of her as she lay in bed, muttering to himself, wiggling the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He had a long red cape that flowed behind him as he moved. He froze, and seemed to notice Uraiah for the first time. His irises were a golden yellow, like a cats eyes.

"I don't suppose you can tell me where my Bassy has gone?" He pouted, gesturing around the room dramatically.

Uraiah blinked, pulled the covers down off herself, and shook her head. "I'm afraid not. What does he look like?" Who on earth was this strange fellow?

The man smiled with enthusiasm, and she moaned fearfully at his mouth of sharp teeth. "Ah, a pity that you do not already know. His hair is as black as his heart, his form tall and graceful, and his eyes are a delicious red, the red of bright roses stained with life! He is a living effigy of live, a cruel mockery of death!"

"W-wait," she interrupted. "Did you say red eyes?"

The man huffed irritably. "Yes, didn't you hear me?"

"I know him," She said hesitantly. "But I don't know where he is, and I believe his name is Sebastian." She shifted awkwardly and rolled out of the bed, landing on her feet on the cool floor. She wore a nightgown now, long and white with sleeves covering her hands and the bottom pooling slightly on the floor. It was obviously made for someone taller. She pushed her tangled mop of yellow hair away from her face.

The odd man was about to say something when the door opened with a creak and a familiar butler stood glowering in the doorway. His hair was combed to perfection, and the red haired man touched his own with a faint blush to his cheeks, then tossed it aside as he stared at him in infatuation. "Bassy!" He said cheerfully, as he took a running leap and tacked Sebastian in a hug- almost, at least. The butler must have had extraordinary reflexes and strength, because he caught him in midair without even stumbling, holding him at bay while smiling courteously at Uraiah.

"Daughter," he greeted.

"Father."

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**Yes, the official beginning of the plot. *evil laugh* I have plans for this. There will a lot of Grell in this, so expect him to appear often. I will say this: This story is going to have one strange family in it.**

** Review?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry it took so long to update. I've had things going on lately. Well, here is the next chapter of One Last Dream, which was supposed to be a little longer than it is, but I got to a point that was perfect to end at, so that's what I ended up doing.**

** Originally, this story was going to take a slightly different direction than it is, but I haven't changed anything too major than what was in my draft (yes, I, the procrastinator who usually only writes once and edits, actually wrote a draft).**

**Notes: The scene you are all about to read is probably going to make you all think this should be rated M, but I assure you, it is not what it seems. Read on and you'll see.**

** I want to dedicate this chapter to someone very special to me, my fantabulous new girlfriend, who really inspired me with my writing and gave me a lot of motivation ;) Love you babe, sorry to steal your line here, but your the Germany to my Italy.**

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_"Daughter," He greeted._

_"Father."_

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Uraiah looked at him curiously. _At last, father__, _she thought, and he seemed to read her mind, because he nodded coyly and flashed her a proud smiled. She smiled herself, and it felt as if her lips were cold from kissing snow. She touched them, and they felt like ice.

The red-haired man had forced his way into Sebastian's arms, and was now resting there contently, all but forgotten by the other two. He looked up and whispered softly. "Bassy, what do you mean by 'daughter'?" He looked away from Uraiah suddenly, as if he could not stand the sight of her. "Please tell me you didn't... not with another...!"

Sebastian set him on his feet, and he proceeded to hide behind the the tall man as if he could protect him from something horrible. Sebastian took no notice. Looking at him and his demeanor, Uraiah had to wonder whether he wasn't capable of some extraordinary things. He radiated the confidence that he could take down a wild bear with a simple fist to its skull.

Her lips were still numb and cold, and she loathed the sensation, and put her palm to her mouth, trying to warm them.

"I believe I can fix that," Sebastian said, and he came to her and leaned down, taking her tiny face in his hands. He examined it as if it were a fine emerald or ruby. "I shall fill the emptiness that plagues you."

He kissed her. While her lips were so cold, his were pleasantly warm, like sunbeams made solid. She sucked in the warmth, drawing in as much of it as she possibly could into herself. It tasted wonderful, a small piece of paradise that she snatched eagerly from the earth. Her eyes closed, and she let the sensation of sucking take her away from this place, let it take whatever it was it wanted from her. She was floating a thousand miles away, yet she was still there, absorbed in the entrancing enigma that was Sebastian.

The other man stared in horror at the two, his mouth open as they had such a personal moment right in front of him. It seemed to pain him internally. For once, he seemed at a loss what to say.

"You're going to catch flies in there if you aren't careful, Grell," Sebastian said, coming up calmly from the kiss.

Uraiah felt the absence of his lips immediately, and pulled him back to her, mashing them together again. She noted the other man's name in the back of her mind. Grell. What a strange name.

Sebastian's eyes were glowing rubies, full of desire. He stopped her, holding her away from him. "Only a taste, for now. Your soul is like liquid gold. So pure, yet so tainted..."

Grell blinked, understanding, and hesitantly approached Sebastian and took his hand. He leaned close to him and whispered something Uraiah could not hear in his ear. Sebastian listened carefully, and then said aloud, "Truly? Again? What do you desire from her?" He was honestly astounded.

Grell straightened his posture, gathering confidence. "I desire nothing, nothing but the desire to see how this little game of yours plays out. A reapers life can get terribly drab, you know."

He considered this. "Very well. You may take your previous room. Oh ,and please do not tell the servants your true identity. I don't need a trio of frightened mortals running around as if Jack the Ripper is at their tails."

Grell smirked knowingly. "As you wish, my sweet."

Uraiah thought she caught a split second murderous look on Sebastian's face, but decided she must have imagined it. He was as tranquil as before.

"Well then, shall we have some tea?" He said kindly, and gestured for them to go ahead out the door.

* * *

Uraiah felt the burning heat of the hot tea inside her cup as she twisted it around in her hand, the liquid making slight ripples. A drop spilled on the tablecloth, a dark stain on the white satin. Sebastian rose to his feet in an instant, but Uraiah's glare made his settle back down soon enough.

"You can clean it later, daddy," she said, taking a sip of her tea. It tasted sweet; a splash of lemon had been added, just as she liked it. She was careful not to spill any on her dress.

"Very well." He nodded. " Uraiah, dear, could you explain a few things to your... 'mother' and I?" He waved his hand at Grell, who was sitting beside him with his own cup of tea, his head resting contently on his shoulder. His bright hair was draped across Sebastians chest like a great red web of sorts. From behind his glasses, he gazed up at him with adoration.

Uraiah smiled sweetly. "Of course."

"Excellent. I want you to think on this question when I ask you it. Has there ever been anyone in your life that you've been angry at, hated, so much that their offense still burns in your minds eye now? A person that you may want revenge on, or payment from?"

That question held a lot behind it, she could feel it. She saw down into her tea as if the answer would be plainly written in the surface. Well, there was one person... but did she truly hate them?

"A man." She saw his face, the smoke his cigarette curling around it. "He...killed my parents." A tendril of angry fire raced through her, burning and making her blood boil.

"Oh, poor dear." Grell had been quietly listening to their conversation, but now he spoke with a strange mix of pity and what sounded like enthusiasm. "Bassy, can we go pay him a visit with my favorite pair of sciccors? Pay him back for his little atrocity on my daughters heart?"

Daughter. It felt nautural to hear him say it, just like it did with Sebastian. Looking on this arrangement, on her new life, a few short days ago, she would have recoiled with horror at the things said between these two fathers, at the dark promises that were being made, but now it felt more right than anything ever had before. Everything was falling into place, and the puzzle was forming a picture, a picture stained with blood and death, but a picture where she belonged, with this elegant mansion and its peculiar occupants. Looking towards the door, she thought she saw the shadow of a person under the crack.

"I'll be right back." She got down from her chair and walked over to investigate, and the shadow disappeared as suddenly as it had come, and the hurried footsteps echoed outside in the hall.

She opened the door to see the end of a blue coat disappearing around a corner. She chased it, calling: "Ciel, wait! What's the matter!?" She saw the black of his hair and the navy blue of the coat just as she crashed headfirst into him. They both fell in a crumpled heap to the ground.

"Damn..." He rubbed his forehead and pushed Uraiah roughly away from him. She lay with her own head aching, her yellow curls trapped under her. Her eyes were dazed and unfocused.

Ciel tapped her gently with his finger. "You're still alive, right?"

She groaned, but pushed herself up to sit. The very sight of him made her angry, and she wanted nothing more than to whip her palm across his face. "You were spying."

There was a long pause. "I was listening to information I have every right to know," He said confidently.

"You could have just asked. I would have told you... whatever knowledge you hoped to gain. I have nothing to hide."

He laughed, leaning back against the wall, a dark portrait of a couple in fancy clothes next to him. He looked up at the man in the portrait, and Uraiah saw there was a startling resemblance between the two males. The same dark hair adorned them, and the shapes of the faces were twins to each other. Ciel returned his attention to her and played with the eye patch over his one eye. "Everyone has something to hide. We all have secrets we that we whisper to no one. Some of them can kill you, and some destroy you slowly from the inside. They're blemishes on the soul, but necessary blemishes. Just remember this. Once you lose something for good, you can never get it back."

There is a deep sadness in the world that we can feel in the very depths of our souls, an emptiness so profound it seems that noting can fill it. It does not always make us weep on the outside. Sometimes it makes tears fall from inside us, makes our heart shudder with pain.

Uraiah did not cry. Her face was a mask. "I know."

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**Hope you all liked this.**

** Grell: *bows* Drop a review, darlings.**

**Me: Thank- wait, how did you get in here!?**

***Announcers voice* Guys, if you like Gerlta and fluff, go check out Kittin254's story 30 Day Gerlta Otp Challenge. Seriously, the fluff will make you breathe rainbows , and it will really brighten your day.**

**Oh, and I almost forgot to put this. Anyone want to guess where the inspiration for this came from (Inspiration, meaning it won't follow that particular plot, and is not a fanfiction on it, just saying)? It's a movie/book series, and I'm kind of curious if anyone can guess.**


	4. Chapter 4

It was twelve o'clock in the morning on a chilly Sunday, and Sebastian and Grell were sitting in the dining room, a cup of untouched English coffee by Grell's side.

"Are you just going to sit and stare at me, or are you going to make some suggestions?" The red haired reaper asked, twirling his hair around his finger, bored.

They had come to discuss Uraiah, or more specifically, the human being who troubled the girl, and so far, not a single move had been made to hasten the progress of conversation. They assumed him to be homeless, considering the fact he had been wearing her father's worn coat, and so he would likely still be residing in some part of the city. Grell had been lost in his thoughts, unusual for him, and sat with his head in his hands. Sebastian sighed.

"Bold tonight, are we?" He asked. "I hope then that the fate of your waking up in one of Mr. Undertaker's coffins is acceptable to you."

Grellstood, panic rising in him like a uncoiling snake. When he made promises, he tended to follow through with them. "I refuse to go back to one of those horrid boxes! They're cramped, and the dust accumulates inside. That's murder on a lady's clothes."

"Then sit down. I need to consider something ." He ran his finger over the spotless tablecloth.. "The bodies. Uraiah never found them, yes?"

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

"Because that means that either the bodies are still out there, or they were taken away."

Grell sighed. "Please don't tell me you mean what I think you mean." He hated the wretched man, with his morbid interests and unearthly laugh. He expected he would have a polished wooden casket waiting for him on his arrival.

Sebastian leaned back in his chair. "I'm afraid so. We must pay him a visit."

Within an hour, they both stood in front of the black door to Undertaker's business, and reluctantly knocked on the door. Sebastiant wore his butler's uniform for the occasion, but for some reason had insisted that Grell change his attire immediately.. The reaper wore a silk dress shirt and black pants that disappeared into his boots. He felt stunning, but the shirt was too light for his liking, and the wind cut through him like a million tiny needles. He sidled up to Sebastian as the door opened, and the butler allowed it, never taking his eyes away from the white haired man that now stood in the shadowy doorway.

Hehe, welcome." Undertaker smiled pleasantly and stepped aside to let them in.

Grell looked at him with open disdain, a chill creeping up his spine when the other reaper followed him with his eyes. Did he realize how unappealing that was to suitors?

He followed Sebastian into the main room. The butler sat down on one of the closed dusty coffins that served as seating in the morgue and clasped his hands together, waiting. Grell sat on the same coffin, as close to him as possible.

Sebastian didn't move. He had stopped moving away from him a while ago. Now he just barely spared him an irritated glare before returning to the matter at hand, muttering something about preparing tea for the evening meal

"So what brings the demon and his partner to my humble abode? Finally ready to be fitted for that coffin, my dear Grell? I still have your measurements you know, so all that's left to do is pick a style~"

"No! I could never leave my Bassy for the dark confines of the underground. He'd get lonely. "

Sebastian was silent, the kind of silent that either meant he was listening to obtain as much information about a person as possible, or that he was plotting murder.

"Aside from that trivial matter, " he said. "We need to speak to you about an urgwnt matter."

"You have a daughter now, hehe?" Undertaker giggled. "Like a porcelain doll with young soft skin and delicate fingers."

He had been toying idly with what looked like an amulet set with a skull shaped gemstone. "I do know something that may be useful. Have you ever heard of a man named Mr. Baters? He's a jeweler in the high class district of the city."

Sebastian checked his pocket watch for the fifth time in ten minutes. "No. His name is not associated at all with Funtom."

"Pay him a visit. He's made his fair share of dealings with death as well, you'll find. Let me know what you discover."

"You're going to remain cryptic? " Grell sighed. "This is a game to you, isn't it, this little mystery? You don't commit the murders, just sit back and watch before cleaning up after the criminal. "

Undertaker grinned eagerly. "That's the best way to have some fun. I get to see the desperation in their eyes and the stillness of the bodies, and I don't have to die."

* * *

**It's been too long, but a lot has been going on lately. I'll make an effort to update more, and make the next chapter a lot longer. I already did it with another story of mine in the Hetalia section.**

**Also, sorry if Undetaker is Ooc here. I have a hard time writing him. **


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